


Heartache

by peacefrog



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dreams, Episode: s03e08 The Great Red Dragon, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He barely dreams anymore. When he does, it is always of Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartache

“My remarkable boy.” The words trail out of Hannibal’s lips like smoke, soft wisps intended for Will’s ears alone. “I have a gift for you.”

Hannibal drags a thumb down his own throat, brushing over the thick knot of his tie, down his chest until he hits the buttons of his waistcoat, then back up again. He makes a fist in the very center of his breastbone and Will’s ears are filled with the sickening crunch of bone.

White cotton stains red as Hannibal’s hand sinks down into his chest. He is unflinching, never breaking eye contact with Will even for a moment. Through the gaping wound in his chest Hannibal removes his still beating heart, the sound of it pulsing in Hannibal’s hand louder than a taiko drum pounding inside Will’s head.

Hannibal swipes his thumb across the bloody organ. He anoints Will with a bright red stripe from forehead to chin. Hannibal cradles his heart in his hands, presents it to Will like a sacrifice.

“For you.” The heart drums between his fingers, blood spurting out, splashing the front of Will’s shirt.

“I don’t want it!” Will shouts over the deafening and steady thump.

“I carved it out for you.” Hannibal’s lips do not move, yet the words rattle around inside Will’s skull all the same.

He brings the heart up to Will’s mouth, trailing blood as sweet as honey across his lips. Will cannot help his tongue darting out, lapping at the pulsing muscle as deep red droplets fall from his chin.

“Will you join me at the table?” Will thinks, and Hannibal understands.

Will blinks, and when his eyes flutter open again they are seated in Hannibal’s dining room. Hannibal kneels where the table should be. He presents his heart to Will on a brilliant white china platter, bowing his head in supplication.

Will takes Hannibal’s heart in his hands, begins devouring it ravenously. He consumes mouthful after mouthful of the bloody meat, strong pulse rattling his teeth, biting off pieces so large he nearly chokes as he tries to swallow around them. 

Hannibal straddles his lap, places his hands over Will’s as he begins to pull pieces of his own heart right out of Will’s mouth. They snarl and growl at one another, feral as they gulp down every last bite, until there is nothing between them but cool night air and bloody fingertips. 

Will laps at the blood dripping from Hannibal’s chin, licks into his mouth, growing hard as he sucks on his tongue. Will pulls back, Hannibal’s hot breath on his face as he unhinges his jaw.

Will’s mouth transforms into a dark, gaping maw, sharp fangs where his teeth once were. Hannibal leans into him, impaling himself on the long spears behind Will’s lips. Hannibal doesn’t make a sound as Will swallows him whole.

— 

Will bolts upright in bed, pulse pounding behind his eyes and cock rock hard against his belly. He barely dreams anymore. When he does, it is always of Hannibal. Will is thankful he’s away from home this time, spared the shame of fucking his wife after waking up aroused from yet another dream of the man they never speak of.

He tosses the blankets off, shoving his shorts down around his ankles and kicking them into the dark. He wraps his fingers around his cock. It pulses in his hand and he can practically taste the blood on his tongue.

He spreads his thighs wide, feet flat against the mattress, bracing himself as he fucks up into his fist. He moans shamelessly, barely recognizing his own voice. Pre-come drips down his fingers as he fucks his hand faster and faster.

In the dream Hannibal was hard against his thigh just moments before he swallowed him down. He recalls the obscene way it pressed against him, thick and heavy and warm even through the fabric of his pants. He sticks two fingers of his free hand between his lips, practically fucking his own mouth with them as he strokes.

He tasted Hannibal’s blood in his dream, felt his heartbeat deep inside him, and he wonders now what it would be like to feel another organ of his drumming against his lips. Wonders what his hard cock would feel like sliding down his throat and choking the life out of him.

He takes his slick fingers and swirls them around his hole, pressing just inside the tight ring of muscle experimentally. He’s never been fucked by a man, never really wanted to be, but every time he dreams of Hannibal he can’t help but crave him pressing into his body. He wants to feel Hannibal deep inside, splitting him open, cleaving every part of him until he’s nothing more than a shattered mess, bits and pieces where a man used to be.

He fucks himself with just the tips of his fingers, fucking up into his fist at a dizzying pace, biting down on the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood when he comes, Hannibal’s name falling from his mouth.

—

“Is there an opinion that you want, Will?” Jack asks, almost incredulously.

“It’s a mindset I need to recover,” Will says, steady beat of his own heart pulling him back down inside his dream. “I have to see Hannibal.”


End file.
